


You Never Walk Alone

by SplashofMagicX



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Age Swap, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bullying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Kim Namjoon | RM is a Sweetheart, Kim Namjoon | RM-centric, Maknae Kim Namjoon | RM, Panic Attacks, Paranormal, Protective Bangtan Boys | BTS, Scared Kim Namjoon | RM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:27:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26631367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SplashofMagicX/pseuds/SplashofMagicX
Summary: Namjoon, too trusting and kind for his own good, finds himself in a dire situation when a few classmates lock him in an abandoned building. While the building itself poses no threat, the same can't be said for the hordes of spirits that linger inside—spirits that only Namjoon can see.*Maknae Namjoon*
Comments: 20
Kudos: 175





	You Never Walk Alone

"What are we doing here?" Namjoon asked as they pulled up outside of the old abandoned mental hospital. A sense of dread started to seep into his stomach. Maybe he shouldn't have come with them after all.

"You said you wanted to help Donghyun, right?" Jiho asked with a smirk. "Well, he needs your help _here_." Jiho pointed at the darkened building. It seemed to suck any light from the few surrounding street lamps into the void, leaving only inky blackness behind.

"Y-Yeah, but," Namjoon started as Siwoo turned the car off and opened the driver's side door, "I can't go in there." The sheer magnitude of the spiritual energy he had sensed just when walking past a few months ago had been enough to overwhelm his senses. He couldn't handle going inside. The mere thought of it made nausea stir in his gut.

His door opened, and he was pulled out by the arm. Jiho wrapped a firm arm around Namjoon's shoulders and began leading him toward the decrepit old building, where he now noticed Donghyun standing. Namjoon started to twist away from the upperclassman, but Jiho just tightened his grip and started practically dragging Namjoon up the sidewalk.

"No, you don't understand," Namjoon pleaded as his stomach turned to lead and his head grew heavier with each step. "I-I can't—I can't go in there." His breath began to speed up, hitching every few seconds or so. 

"What's the matter, Namjoon?" Donghyun called out when they stopped just below him on the front steps of the hospital. "You said you could see ghosts, didn't you?" The spirit of his sister stood behind him, shaking her head at Namjoon in warning and turning to shout at her brother—though he couldn't hear her pleas for him to stop. A sudden touch to his side startled Namjoon for a moment before he realized that Jiho had plucked his phone right from his jacket pocket.

"I-I can, but this place—it's too much." He was breathing as if he had run a race, ragged and wheezy, while he tried to explain. "There are too many here."

The other boys laughed as they pulled him, struggling, toward the front doors. Donghyun cut away the rusted chain meant to prevent anyone from entering. And Namjoon knew then that Donghyun had never really needed his help. It was just a ruse to trick stupid, trusting Namjoon into this situation.

He tried to tug his arms out of their grip as he gasped out pleas and promises to never talk to them again if they just let him go. "Please," he cried out as Donghyun forced open the doors that were rusted shut from age and disuse. He was startled to feel the prickling at his eyes that suggested tears were about to make an appearance. Panic filled his lungs, causing his chest to heave with each breath. He twisted away desperately, attempting to wrench his arms out of their tight hold, but they simply tightened their grip on his wrists and forearms until it was painful.

He could already feel the oily heaviness of the atmosphere inside the hospital. The place had seen so much death and suffering, and it had left its mark. Namjoon was unfortunate enough to have the ability to feel that spiritual reside. It seeped into his lungs and stole what little breath he had left. He didn't even know what he was saying anymore, but he felt each gasping breath as he was dragged to the entrance and then tossed a few feet away onto the dirt- and grime-caked floor. Already, he could see multiple spirits wandering through the lobby, and he sensed others moving around the hospital.

"Have fun with your ghosts," he heard before a small flashlight was tossed onto his lap and the door slammed shut, enclosing him in near darkness. When he heard a chain rattling against the metal door handles, he staggered to his feet and stumbled the few steps to the entrance. Although he pushed against the door with all his might, it only gave way a few centimeters before the chain snapped tight. He was locked in.

He started banging on the doors, yelling for the guys to let him out with what little breath he had left. Through the grime that coated the glass window panes, he saw them laughing. Even as he continued banging on the door, they turned and walked away, back toward their car on the street. Siwoo looked back for a few seconds, but finally turned away and followed his friends, leaving Namjoon all alone in the dark, haunted hospital.

His breaths were still coming far too quickly and his chest ached with panic. He didn't want to turn around for fear of what he would find. He had attracted quite a bit of attention with his sudden and explosive entrance to the building, and his spiritual energy was sure to attract even more. The drain on his energy had already begun.

"Can you see us?" a whispering voice asked from his left. He startled badly enough from the suddenness of it that there was no way to lie. A pounding took up residence in his skull.

"I-I can," he whispered back hesitantly, not yet looking at the source of the voice.

"Can you help us?" the voice asked again, hopeful.

"Can you?" anther voice chimed in from somewhere to his left.

He turned to the room at large, realizing he had already attracted quite the audience. Over a dozen spirits had already gathered, and he could see a few more wispy forms materializing through the walls and up through the floor.

He gasped at the heavy feeling settling in like weights on his shoulders and lungs, and at the haziness that joined the pounding in his head. "I'm sorry," he gasped out. "Th-There are too many of you." His trembling voice went unheard as they all clamored over each other to be noticed. The mounting cacophony was deafening where other people would hear only silence.

Covering his ears with his hands did nothing to stop it, as he well knew. They were coming closer, closing in on him. He could barely breathe underneath the oppressive weight of their agony, the sadness and pain they wished to be free of. He stumbled back a few steps though a cold wall of spirits who had gathered around, and then gasped for air as the ache in his head intensified with their added emotions. Almost blinded by the pain, Namjoon knew he had to get out before he fell unconscious and vulnerable to the veritable horde of spirits who would use his body as a means of fulfilling their last wishes. If that many spirits attempted it, he could very well die.

Namjoon stumbled instinctively toward the left for a few steps and opened his eyes wide. There was a door leading to a side wing. He began a jogging meander toward the door and shoved at it as the spirits fought amongst themselves, and a few gave chase. Although the hallway was nearly pitch-black, there were small slivers of moonlight shining through from the partially open doors lining the hallway. 

He had to find a way out before he got too overwhelmed to move at all. It had happened before, back when he had decided to test the strength of his abilities, but he hadn't been alone then. If only he had gone with his friends after class instead of following Siwon and Jiho like an idiot. But there was nothing he could do about it now. All he could do was try to find a window or a different entrance. Then maybe he could escape.

But when he shoved his way into what had once been a patient's room, he was filled with dread. There were bars on the window. Of course, he thought with a kind of finality laced with panic. They couldn't risk the patients escaping. He turned and rushed from the room just as a spirit entered after him. The close proximity, coupled with his ever-increasing desperation, made it all too easy for the spirit to overwhelm his barriers, and suddenly he was her.

Her pain was his pain. Her agony was his. He was her as she suffered through each new treatment the doctors had to offer, to "fix" her. And he was her as she slit her own wrists with a stolen bread knife to end her own suffering, and as the life drained out of her until she whispered a broken "thank you" and finally escaped from this world. The pain in his wrists lingered, joining the pounding in his head and the pain in his chest from breathing so shallowly.

Though his legs felt weak, he continued on his journey down the hallway in a most-likely futile effort to hide. He didn't know how he could stay hidden when he passed new spirits at every door. The place was packed with them, generations and generations of them stuck here until they could be cleansed. While some of them just needed an outlet to share their pain and their last moments—like the previous spirit—some had a final duty they needed to see through, which made it all the harder to help them. Before he even made it to the stairwell at the end of the hallway, he was waylaid by two more spirits. Though they had died relatively peaceful deaths—one from old age, and the other from an illness while she slept—they left him shaking and shivering and wondering for a moment where he was.

He had to pause to catch his breath on the stairs up to the second floor—with the hope that these windows might not be barred—but soon continued on as the whispers and shouts of the spirits followed him, reminding him of the urgency of the situation. He stumbled up the stairs in the dark and then down a hallway, barely able to see anything through the pain in his body and the haze that was filling his head and lungs.

Upon peeking into an old patient room somewhere on the second floor, he knew he was doomed. These rooms, too, had bars, and he doubted there was a fire escape in a building this old. It had been closed decades ago already. He didn't know how long he would be able to keep going at this rate.

About halfway down the hallway, he ducked into a room and hastened over to the corner. Sitting with his back to the walls, he curled up in the dirt and debris that had gathered there. Despite his attempts to take deep breaths and calm himself—to take control of his body and rebuild his spiritual barriers—his surroundings made it impossible. He knew that any second now, the room would be overrun with spirits, all clamoring to get his attention.

Namjoon curled up just like he used to as a child, before he had learned to control his abilities—his thighs pressed into his heaving chest, his eyes rested against his knees, and his hands thrown over his ears. As the spirits flooded into the room, he began rocking himself as he hadn't in so many years, desperate for some escape from the decades- and centuries-long agony the spirits brought with them.

At first, the visions and memories came slowly, but soon enough his meager defenses shattered under the onslaught, and they began to fly through his head. And suddenly he was the teen whose parents had dumped him here out of embarrassment, and the older woman forced to undergo shock therapy, and the young woman admitted after a trauma she could never come back from. And a cancer victim, an addict. A person suffering from depression, bulimia, schizophrenia. Trauma after trauma. Treatment after treatment. His head and heart would surely burst from it all. He didn't know where their pain ended and his began. Which were his experiences and which were theirs? As the spirits flowed through him, using his energy to cleanse themselves, he lost sight of who he was. The pain, the sadness, the suffering. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't feel his body anymore. When would it all end? Why was he here? Where was here?

And then, after what felt like both minutes and lifetimes, there was silence. . . The pain faded, just a bit, and he could feel the spongey floor under him and the rough walls against his back. His breathing was still ragged and much too fast, being dragged forcibly from his throat. His head ached something awful, and his eyes burned and throbbed, feeling like they might burst inside his skull. And there was a haze lingering over him, like a heavy, oily blanket of suffering and despair. He shivered, and his rocking continued. But there was blessed silence. . .

Until the sound filtered back in, and he could hear whimpering and whispered begging. Oh god, the spirits hadn't backed off. They were still there, waiting for him.

But after a few moments, he realized the sounds were coming from was him.

A familiar voice called out. It was warm and friendly. The voice was coming closer, becoming more familiar with each word.

* * *

Yoongi gripped the flashlight tightly in his fist and scowled once more at the three idiots who had thought this was a good idea. At least Siwoo had the decency to look ashamed. The other two just rolled their eyes when Taehyung announced the concentration of spiritual energy somewhere to their left. The open door to the wing was a good enough indication that Namjoon had passed that way.

"This way, come on," Yoongi ordered as he stood and made his way toward the open door. Jungkook and Taehyung were quick to follow, but Seokjin, Jimin, and Hoseok stayed back behind the three other guys—probably to make sure they didn't run off anywhere.

"He probably just went to find a different way out," said Jiho. "We were going to come let him out in an hour anyway," he continued with another roll of his eyes. "I don't know why he didn't take the flashlight with him."

Taehyung had to hold Jungkook back when he lunged at the guy, but he did nothing to stop him from shouting. "We told you! He was overwhelmed by all the spiritual energy here! It's dangerous for him!"

"Oh, come on!" Donghyun shouted. "You're not still on about that shit, are you? There's no way there are any ghosts here! It's just an abandoned—"

A sharp screeching noise echoed through the hallway as a metal door was thrust open a few feet from them. The group startled, and Yoongi once again offered the three guys some of the same charms the rest of the group was already wearing. Siwoo took it with a quiet word of thanks, and the other two were quick to follow when a blast of cold air rushed over them.

"They're probably restless because there are so many visitors tonight," Taehyung explained.

"Maybe we should leave then," Jiho spoke up.

"No, _you_ are going to help us find Namjoon because it's your damn fault he's in here in the first place," Jungkook retorted before continuing down the hallway.

Though they experienced a few more auditory events, there was nothing more serious until they reached the end of the hallway. They stopped for a moment, calling out for Namjoon before Donghyun gasped and whirled around.

"Who the hell touched me?!" he yelled accusatorily as he swung the flashlight around wildly.

Before anyone could reply, he was pulled forward a few steps by some invisible force on his arm. He screamed, and the pulling stopped. When he made to run away, Jimin and Hoseok stood in his path.

"It wasn't malicious," Yoongi reassured him. "The charms protect the holder from malicious intent, but not a helping hand." When Donghyun, Jiho, and Siwoo looked at him incredulously, he continued. "They just want to show you something," he informed them as he walked toward the stairwell the spirit had presumably been herding them toward. "Let's check on the second floor."

The others followed him up the stairs, careful not to slip on the layers of dirt and debris. There were skid marks from something passing this way, and they could only hope it had been Namjoon, and that he was still nearby.

Upon reaching the top of the stairs, they stepped out into the second floor hallway and looked around for a moment. Seokjin had just begun calling for Namjoon again when Hoseok shushed him and told the others to be quiet. They did so almost immediately with only a bit of grumbling from Jiho.

After only a few seconds of near silence, they heard it over the sound of their own breaths—a soft whispering interspersed with whimpers and a quiet shuffling noise. Yoongi met Jimin's stare and they moved down a few rooms, the noise getting slightly louder as they went. And then Yoongi peeked into a room toward their right and gasped when the flashlight lit up the huddled shape in the corner. He rushed forward, followed right after by Seokjin, who cried out Namjoon's name and waved the extra charm about the room to scare off any remaining spirits. Yoongi dropped to his knees at Namjoon's side and placed a hand on the top of his head, causing Namjoon to flinch back against the wall.

"N-No," he moaned out. "S-Stop, please," he continued to whisper brokenly. "I-I c-ca-can't—" He drew in a shaking, wheezing breath before continuing to whisper pleas to the spirits that were no longer present.

"Shh, it's okay," Yoongi reassured him over and over, shushing each desperate plea. It took them minutes to finally bring him out of his almost catatonic state and get him to stop rocking.

"We're here now, Namjoonie," Seokjin reassured him as well before placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Yoongi brought charms to block out the spirits, okay?" Although Namjoon didn't respond, some tension did seem to bleed from his shoulders. The whimpers and whispers slowly died out, and he finally moved his head back to blink up at them in confusion.

Yoongi felt as though he had failed Namjoon, who was always so trusting and too kind for his own good, who was sure to have suffered through so much pain and sadness on this night. What he wouldn't give to turn back time and force Namjoon to join them after class instead of going to "take care of something." He could kill those stupid guys for what they'd done to his friend.

He sighed and forced it to the back of his mind, deciding to focus instead on taking care of Namjoon and clearing away the confusion the youngest member of their group must have been feeling. He and Seokjin comforted Namjoon until he was mostly lucid again. Then his cracked, broken voice whispered out "Seokjin-hyung?" as if only fully recognizing him at that moment. Yoongi let out a sigh of relief.

"Namjoonie?" Taehyung called out from behind them. "Are you with us?"

Their friend let out a soft whisper of affirmation and slowly turned his head to look at Taehyung and the rest of the group. Yoongi noticed that Namjoon's gaze didn't seem to be focusing on anyone in particular—rather sweeping across the group as a whole and then flicking back to the floor again. Seeing this many people was probably too much for him to handle at the moment.

Yoongi himself glanced back at their friends, all looking relieved to see Namjoon more aware of his surroundings. And then there were the three others—Donghyun, Jiho, and Siwoo—who looked scared out of their wits.

"Can we get the hell out of here now?" Donghyun asked brashly.

"It's your fault we're all here in the first place, so shut the hell up," Jimin snarked. Donghyun just raised his hands in a placating manner and backed up a step.

"We really should get out of here though," Hoseok spoke up. He softened his tone before continuing. "Can you stand, Namjoonie?"

It seemed to take him a moment to realize that he had been asked a question, and another moment for him to think about how to answer. All they got was a shrug and a somewhat sheepish look that had Yoongi smiling down at Namjoon.

"It's okay, we'll just try to go slowly, yeah?" Yoongi reassured him. He and Seokjin grasped Namjoon's upper arms firmly and pulled him to his feet as gently as they could. They weren't prepared for his head to loll forward or his legs to give out, but they adjusted their grip just in time to keep him from falling.

"Jungkook can give you a piggyback ride instead," Seokjin reassured him.

Without question, Jungkook rushed forward to stand in front of Namjoon while the other two helped drape the youngest across his back and then hitch him up into a better position.

Jungkook carried Namjoon across the room and down the debris-ridden hallway while Yoongi and Seokjin stuck close behind to support him if he needed it. Yoongi watched as Namjoon rested his chin on Jungkook's shoulder and whispered "Jungkook-hyung" into his neck. By the time they had reached the first floor, Namjoon's eyes were closed, and Yoongi hoped the charms had helped him relax some.

They left the building without any more run-ins, and they could practically see the tension leaving Namjoon's body with each step away from the hospital. They watched as he took a deep breath of fresh air and then whispered a strangled "Thank you, hyungs" into the air. They were quick to shush him quietly, and Jimin stepped closer to rub his back.

When it came time to part ways, Siwoo broke the tense silence between the two groups to ask if Namjoon would be okay.

Yoongi almost snarled back that it was none of his concern, but he could tell he was sincere. He had been the one to text Yoongi in the first place, after all. At the very least, he had had the sense to know when his stupid friends had gone too far.

"I'm sure he will be," Yoongi said with a sigh. "But this was traumatic for him," he continued with a glare toward the other two guys, who had the decency to avoid his gaze in favor of the ground. "The spirits in there basically flooded his body and drained his spiritual energy, and he felt all their pain and suffering like it was his." Siwon looked horrified at his explanation.

"You guys had better stay the hell from him from now on," Hoseok piped up. "I don't want to hear that you've come into contact with him at all, got it?" He had that dangerous look in his eyes—the one that really only came out when Namjoon was in danger. It wasn't one they had seen often, but they all recognized it to be backed up by a steely resolve.

Siwoo started forward just a step. "Uh. . . I just want to apologize to him, if that's alright." He cleared his throat before beginning again. "We shouldn't have let it go this far, no matter what we believed, and now we know he was telling the truth the entire time anyway, so I just. . ." he paused, looking at the ground, ". . .wanted to say sorry."

Silence descended on the group, and Yoongi turned to look back at Namjoon, who was pretty much asleep on Jungkook's shoulder. At least he wasn't gasping for breath anymore, though his breathing was still a bit ragged.

"We'll ask him what he wants when he wakes up," Yoongi finally said. "If he says no, then you guys leave him alone."

"Fair enough," Siwoo agreed.

The group split after that, the three guys heading to their car, and the rest of them making their way to Seokjin's. Even without saying a thing, they all knew the group would be going back to Yoongi's place. There was no way any of them would let Namjoon out of their sight for a while after this. They could take care of him better at Yoongi's apartment, and they would all be around when Namjoon inevitably woke up from nightmares later.

The thought of it made him angry again. They shouldn't have let those assholes off so easily after what they had done. He took a deep breath when he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Jimin looking at him with understanding in his eyes and a half-smile on his face.

Yoongi took another deep breath and let it out in a gust. No, he thought. Namjoon wouldn't have wanted them to retaliate. He was just that type of person. But that wasn't his concern right now.

He smiled back at Jimin and got them all on road back to his warm, comfortable apartment. And hopefully they could get Namjoon well on his way to recovering from this ordeal. Without a doubt, they would be there with him every step of the way.


End file.
